


I Need a Little Sweetness

by Daiako (Achrya)



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Sugar Daddy, First Meetings, M/M, Prostitution, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2018-01-16
Packaged: 2019-02-19 16:43:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13127565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Achrya/pseuds/Daiako
Summary: Orphan with a Heart of Gold and a love of art’ didn’t get one adopted by rich guys or noticed by the right people in real life, so Prompto has had to make due getting by on his knees.He has a system and rules and it takes all of 2 drinks in Mr. Amiticia's company for him to throw them to the wayside.





	1. Chapter 1

 

Prompto did his best work out in the real world, freestyling for clients. He had a BackAlley Account, of course, and the business there is okay but, honestly, meeting up with guys from online is risky. Pulling them in an ice restaurant or club is risky too, yeah, but at least like this he can see the men, chat them up for weirdness that might be missed in text messages, snap a little picture to send to Noctis and turn on his phone tracking on the off chance he disappeared and was turned into a lampshade or something, shit like that. Mostly it was about being able to see them, really get a feel for him, and let his best judgement come into play. He’d always been good at reading people and that came in handy with his line of work.

Unfortunately ‘Orphan with a Heart of Gold and a love of art’ didn’t get one adopted by rich guys or noticed by the right people in real life. In fact it had often got him the wrong kind of attention and one day, at the ripe age of 17, it had occurred to him that he might as well put that attention to good use. If he was going to suck all the wrong guys’ dicks in pursuit of affection or love or whatever the hell kept leading him the wrong way with all the wrong men he might as well get paid for his trouble. 

It wasn’t exactly how he’d thought he’d be putting himself through college but life was all about adapting, in his opinion, and he was good at adapting. 

He was haunting one of his favorite hotel bars when he met Mr. Amiticia. He looked out of place, much younger than the rest of the crowd save his fellow working girls and boys, dressed in tight ripped jeans, a skin tight sleeveless shirt that rode up a little further with each shift of his weight on the barstool, under an open button down, hair coiffed and gelled back, eyes rimmed in silver and lips slicked with gloss to make them look bigger and ‘alluring’. He could have dressed up for the occasion, he had a nice-ish suit and a set of linen pants and a nice lightweight shirt for more high end places that wouldn’t let him in looking like he was right now, but looking out of place was how he got attention. 

It was no different from the girls in their scandalously short and tight dressed, faces made up, lips plumped up and hair falling like waterfalls down their back, legs looking long and lean in heels that could double as weapons. They all needed clients to know what they was selling without actually having to tell them. The guys Prompto was after weren’t into clean cut and respectable looking. 

They didn’t want *boyfriends*. Hell, most of them had rings on their hands and had to call their wives to explain they’d be coming home late for whatever made up eason. Definitely not after boyfriends and for the most part Prompto wouldn’t have wanted it anyway. None of his clients interested him and that was for the best. It made it easier. 

But Mr. Amicitia. Well he was just unfair. He slipped into the seat next to Prompto and order two more of what Prompto was having, all dark wavy hair pulled back into a low bun, smoldering amber eyes, and sinful lips that quirked into a smile as he sipped his cocktail. Everything about him was big and thick, fingers, arms, shoulders, thighs; he made his expertly cut suit look that much better just for being lucky enough to be on his body. He was older, had lines around his eyes when he smiled and laughed, but Prompto didn’t think he was *that* old. 

Not ‘Daddy’ old at least though...if he wanted to be Daddy Prompto was willing to go for it. He wouldn’t even charge extra. ...he would probably charge extra but he'd be more into than he usually was.

Prompto licked fruit flavored alcohol from his lower lip, a warm tingle creeping up his spine as amber eyes zeroed in on the piercing in his mouth, and lowered his lashes as he took another sip. At least he wasn’t the only one interested though if he had half the self preservation he promised Noctis he had (Stupid Noctis, rich runaway who’d lucked his way into snagging a majorly rich older guy who worshipped the ground he walked on and whose weirdest kink was wanting Noct to wear panties while he rode him and called him Sir, while Prompto considered himself lucky if a client wasn't ass ugly and didn’t want to jizz on his face. The universe was unfair and gods, that was fucked up to say because Noct has his fair share of baggage and bad experiences, some worse than his) he’d walk away now and consider it a night. 

Mr. Amicitia was too damn handsome, too prime, to even touch. He’d like it way too much and then he’d be fucked up. 

“Let me fuck you.” The man rasped against his ear, hand warm as it rested on his thigh, thumb rubbing circles between his legs. 

And the thing was Prompto didn’t really fuck. He was good for the best dick sucking a guy had ever had, good for some hair pulling, ass smacking, jerking off while they watched, he’d even let a guy spit in his mouth once while he jerked himself off and insisted he didn't want Prompto to touch him which, Weird as Fuck but easy as far as work went. But he didn’t fuck much. Not anymore; it was too vulnerable a position, too easy to have things go sideways, too easy to lose leverage when someone had their cock in his ass. It never had but he’d heard enough stories to know that taking off his boots and being separated from the knife he carried was a bad idea. 

He knew he’d been lucky so far and that a lot of other people weren’t. 

Saying no was what he needed to do. 

But Mr. Amicitia breathed a dollar amount that would pay his half of the rent for the next three months, easy, and just like that Prompto was standing up, coy smile in place, and walking away. He put a little extra sway in his hips, because he could and because his ass looked good in those jeans and he could feel Mr. Amicitia’s eyes burning into his back.  

There was an offer to get a room, and to let him keep it for the night, but Prompto waved it away. He wasn’t so in lust that he’d agree to be behind locked doors with someone he didn’t know, thanks very much. 

Just roughly in lust enough that he lead the older man outside and down into the garage to where the laundry company dropped off the freshly laundered stuff and slipped a twenty to Talcott, the guard on the door, to beat it for thirty minutes. Just in lust enough to bend over, brace himself again a wall, pants down around his ankle, and slick himself up fast and dirty then slide a condom onto the older man while all but begging to be fucked. 

It was good. Of course it was good, the universe wouldn’t be done being well and truly mean to him if it wasn’t a good enough fuck to make him claw at the wall and bite his lip bloody holding back shouts every time Mr. Amicitia’s thick cock sank into him just right, with enough force to take him up to his toes each time. He felt it in his stomach, battering his insides, the burning stretch just too damn good. His eyes might have rolled back into his head and gods knew he was drooling. He hadn’t been fucked so good in...a while. 

Too long, clearly, if he was about to lose it over a big dick and huge hands on his hips, pulling him back hard, like he weighed nothing at all, then fisting his hair and dragging his head back until his neck was aching. He moaned, shifted, tried to impale himself further. 

He reached between his legs to fist his cock and came with two good strokes, pulsing messily over his hand, and after that it was all bracing himself and trying desperately to hang on as he was utterly ruined. 

So. Unfair. 

When it was done Mr. Amicitia was kind enough to hold him up until his knees stopped shaking and even helped him redo his pants before handing over a wad of bills thicker than Prompto had ever seen. He counted it quickly, not sure what to make of the man watching, an absolutely shit eating grin on his face. 

Well fuck him anyway. 

There was also a business card. 

“The bottom number is my cell. Call if you’re ever interested in making more.” 

Prompto watched him go, blinking owlishly. He wasn’t going to call. He absolutely wasn’t. 

...but a text might be okay, right? 


	2. Chapter 2

“Why don't you just call that guy?”

Prompto looked up from his very grown up dinner of frosted flakes to blink at his roommate-slash-best friend-slash only real friend. Noctis looked nice, in tight black jeans, a new and artfully worn t-shirt, a leather jacket Prompto was pretty sure was very very new despite being elegantly distressed, worn under a grey woolen long coat they both knew had cost as much as their combined rent. His hair was free of product and falling around his face in waves and his eyes were lined in black, making them look even more dark and wide. He had a date with Mr. Specs, aka his adoring sugar sugar daddy who seemed to get pleasure in taking Noctis nice places to eat, to fancy events, and out for lavish trips.

And in paying the rent, getting Noctis a car, paying tuition and for books, and a bunch of other stuff. He'd even been pushing for Noct, and by extension Prompto, to move into a penthouse he kept further uptown. Noctis was game, long past tired of their crap neighborhood and worrying about having his car broken into every night. Prompto wasn't comfortable with the idea of moving somewhere he couldn't afford to pay his half on the promise of someone else's ‘boyfriend’ that he wouldn't have to pay.

“Because not all of us are in the sugar daddy market.” Prompto said finally, attention returning to his email.

He'd gotten some responses to an ad and, in spite of having gotten a far bigger than average amount last time he'd freestyled at the Leville, he was hurting for money. Between books for Spring Semester and his car deciding to shit the bed in the middle of fucking winter he'd burned through a lot of money, only to have his car declared a lost cause. He was using the bus and trains now, and would be for a while at this rate.  

Business wasn't exactly slow, but a lot of the men he saw more than once started bushing for more than head after a handful of method so he had to drop them, which meant work was never steady. And sucking dick didn't pay as well as spreading his legs would have. Spending thirty minutes is Lestallum’s frigid winter weather, when the wind was blowing up on the canals, was enough to make him reconsider his no fucking policy very seriously. So seriously that he'd altered his BackAlley ad to reflect pricing for anal, as well as some kinks.

Noctis was...unhappy with the development. He'd offered to loan him money but Prompto had never been one for charity or accepting money he wasn't sure he could pay back right away.

“Maybe you should be.” Noctis suggested, leaning closer to look over his shoulder. “Better than fucking a random every night.”

And Noctis would know. They'd met working the same bar, had known each other for what they really were right away, and become fast friends. So Prompto knew that Noctis had been a little more aggressive with work than him, with a steady of regulars and one timers; he'd claimed he was working on his daddy issues one dick at a time.

Then something had gone badly enough to find Prompto picking his friend up from the emergency room and made Noctis lock himself in their apartment for half a semester. When he'd finally started leaving again he'd been...different. More subdued, quieter and skittish. He'd gotten a normal job, barista at the Bean and Leaf by school and, ironically, that was where Noctis had met his Mr. Specs.

Prompto knew Noct's concern came from a genuine place and that he really believed Prompto should try to find one or two guys to support his lifestyle, such as it was, instead of the way he did things. But-

“There is no rich guy out there looking to pay to be my boyfriend.” Prompto muttered, scanning an email and ignoring Noctis’ grumbled of ‘He's not paying to be my boyfriend’. “The hotel guy was a fluke.”

“A fluke who gave you his number. And fucked you stupid.” Noctis nudged him playfully. “You should call. See what he wants, you might get lucky. Or at least get some good dick before you start faking it for a bunch of old guys.”

Prompto’s laugh was more bitter than he meant it to be. “Speaking of old guys don’t you have a date?"

“Specs isn't old.” Noctis said, looking well and truly offended on behalf of his boyfriend. “He's only...well. Thirty-four isn't old.”

It was when you were twenty but Prompto kept that to himself. If anything he was a little jealous, Specs was kind and beyond generous and smitten with Noctis *and* had the audacity to be good looking. Really really good looking; tall and lean (And flexible, with a drool worthy chest according to Noctis) with sandy brown hair, stunning green eyes, and cheekbones that belonged on a model, not a ‘Professional Consultant and advisor.’

“...you want to come to dinner and the theater with us?” Noctis asked, hesitating by the door, scarf dangling from his fingers. “Leave the work for the weekend.”

“I'm not going to watch you jerk off Specs in his private box instead of watching some play.”

Noctis smiled, was all teeth and bright eyes. “Usually I blow him, just so you know. I was just being discreet that time you came with us, because I'm a great friend. ...unless you liked watching? Because Specs would be into that. And Christmas is in two days and I was thinking-”

“You can't give a threesome for Christmas.”

“That sounds fake.”

“Bye Noctis.”

“Bye Prom. Be safe.”

Prompto waved him off and, once he was alone, got back to work. He set up three motel dates, exchanged some text messages with a regular, sipped a beer, then shuffled off to bed to nap. It was a Friday night so if he went out later his odds of pulling a client or two (or four) were good and a little rest ahead of time was always a good idea. No one wanted a tired looking hooker after all.

Sleep didn't come easy and he found himself scrolling through his contacts, intending to bug Noctis. But, of course, he found himself lingering over ‘Mr. Amicitia’, fingering hovering above the name.

He wasn't even sure why he had added it.l.to his phone. He'd meant to just throw out the card and forget all about it but then he just...hadn't. Maybe because Noctis had encouraged him to do so. Maybe because the idea of getting rid of a contact that had handed over so much cash so easily was contrary to his nature. Maybe because he'd come home that night and jerked off twice thinking about about that dick. He wasn't above thirst, even with how he made money, and yes, he'd been a little thirsty. A little.

He was half convinced he'd been ruined for other men in less than twenty minutes in a grimey, hot, muggy hotel laundry room. Though he'd been been a ruined far before that, if he was honest.

But nothing good came from they one of thought and, fuck it, what did he had to lose in sending a message? He could almost feel Noctis smirking triumphantly which was annoying but not enough to deter him now that he’d tapped the man’s name and started to compose a message.

 **Me** : Um. Hi, Mr. Amicitia. This is Prompto? You gave me your number when we met at the Leville?

 **Me** : Three weeks ago?

 **Me** : I gave you a recommendation on a laundry service.

Prompto squinted then nodded to himself and set the phone aside, not expecting a response any time soon. That was enough detail without getting into the whole ‘you paid to fuck me ’ thing. For all he knew the man had a wife or husband or nosey kids who had access to his phone. One could never be too cautious when it came to talking to clients.

He was settling back down, pulling a blanket up to his chin, when his phone chimed. He blinked in surprise then, laughing to himself because it was probably Noctis complaining about the play or sending sending dirty pictures of whatever he and Mr. Specs were up to, picked his phone back up.

And nearly dropped it in surprise when he saw who it was.

 **Mr. Amicitia** : I remember you, very well.

 **Mr. Amicitia** : What can I do for you Prompto?

Oh! Oh. Fuck, what was he supposed to say? Help, I'm poor and thirsty, wanna do me a favor and fuck me again? No, no, that was desperate, too desperate. That gave the client the power and that was unacceptable. Okay. He had to be cool and not a nervous nerd. He could manage that it a text right? He set up things with clients all the time, though that was always him responding to requests and setting things up with the knowledge of what was going down already out there and accepted, and those people always reached out to him first.

This was a total flip in the dynamic, and after three weeks! It was going to be obvious he was just after money and, for all that money was what made the world go round, some guys liked to pretend that wasn’t what it was about.

Okay! He needed to breathe. And respond. Right. He could do this. He was a professional.

 **Me** : You said it was okay to contact you and I like to keep in touch with potential clients. Keep lines of communication open and all that. 

 **Me** : So I thought we could talk.

 **Me** : If you're interested, that is.

Good. Very cool. ...that was terrible. How the hell had Noctis managed to snag Mr. Specs, antisocial asshole that his best friend was? Noctis was the kind of one word text messages and lazy emoji usage, but seemed to manage.

The response came quickly.

 **Mr. Amicitia** : I’m always interested in pretty things.  

 **Mr. Amicitia** : I’ve been thinking about the way my cock looked inside of you, and all those sounds you made for me.

 **Mr. Amicitia** : I’d like to fuck your mouth. You’ve got lips made to have a dick between them. 

Prompto put a hand over his eyes and dropped back onto his pillow. Why was that hot? It was...it was so dry! And blunt; he’d had clients try to dirty talk him for whatever reason, as if he wasn’t a sure thing for enough money, and it was always graphic and over the top, borderline gross, but this was...simple. And hot. 

No! Clients were not hot! He was not into this. He just needed a payday.

 **Mr. Amicitia** : Short notice but I have some time for the holiday. Would you like to meet tonight? Or tomorrow.

 **Mr. Amicitia** : I can do dinner tonight, at the Leville, or lunch tomorrow in the Market District.

 **Mr. Amicitia:**  I’ll make it worth your time.

Prompto bit down on his bottom lip hard, mind racing. Meet up? Just like that? Really? Was this guy that interested? Why? Guys like him a were a dime a dozen, if you know where to look, and a lot of them were better looking. He hadn’t been that charming at the hotel, had he? They’d talked some but it had been small talk, mostly, and dancing around the inevitable. A little about his art, and school, and a little about how tedious Mr. Amicitia found the people he worked with but he hadn’t exactly be on his A plus conversation game. 

Still...he had messaged for this, right? 

Right.

 **Me** : Sure. 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now for the fun part! Do Gladio and Prompto:
> 
> A. Meet up for a quiet dinner, in which Gladio lays out his interest, some of the whys, what he’s into, a gift is given, and a tentative arrangement is made
> 
> B. Meet up for lunch, but before they talk Mr. Amicitia decides to show Prompto just what he can offer with an impromptu day of Christmas Eve shopping. 
> 
> You’ve got like. Two Hours to vote, here or in messages, while I work on a Ot4 thing. ;) 


	3. Chapter 3

Lunch, Prompto decided, was best. Someplace busy, during the day, where there would be lots of people. It was safer than dinner in the Leville’s intimate restaurant, even if he was friendly-ish, enough that they’d look the other way when he took up with clients on the premises, with some of the staff. And dinner often meant drinking and that could go all sorts of ways and...well, it was just best to avoid that. Plus that meant going down there in the dark, with no way home but the bus, which was a risk all its own.

**Me** : Lunch sounds good.

 **Mr. Amicitia** : Great. I’ll meet you by the fountain at one.

 **Mr. Amicitia** : I have to get back to work but I’m looking forward to it

\-----

The Market District was a place in the city Prompto had never been. It was, simply put, not a place where people like him visited unless they were lucky enough to get work at one of the shops or restaurants there. Prompto had looked into it but most of the places had declared him as not having the right look and the few trendy places that accepted piercings and tattoos hadn’t been interested in him for whatever reason. And, in the end, he made more money doing what he did than he would have working long hours in some high end shop while rich people looked down on him.

There was still a lot of that but at least when he was on his knees for some guy he knew exactly what the score was. There was no confusion, no illusions, about where he stood or if anyone was going to treat him right or, six forbid, respect him.

That said he found himself hesitating over what to wear. His roommate had stayed out, as he often did when on a date with Ignis, and other some suggestive pictures of what he was pretty sure was Noctis straddling Mr. Spec’s face (they were just dark, badly angled, and unfocused enough to make Prompto unsure, which was probably the point.) his useless roommate had been out of communication since leaving the apartment. Prompto wasn’t worried, Noctis had been dating the guy for months and didn’t really need Prompto looking after him, but it would have been nice to have him around.

Noctis knew rich people, had been rich people until whatever had motivated him to run away from home, and would know how one dressed to do lunch with a rich guy. But he was too busy being all happy and fucked out somewhere to be of any help, which left Prompto all alone. Prompto, who had never been anywhere nicer than a fancy hotel bar or the vip section of a club he sometimes got let into by bouncers who knew what he was up to, and accepted a small cut of the profits. Not restaurants in the market district with names he could barely pronounce, promising tapas and amuse bouche and high tea and only the freshest local fare, or the boutiques along the so called Luxury Row, and he’d never even tried to set foot in any of the hotels there, which catered to business types, tourists, and nobles on holiday from up in Insomnia.

And, he supposed, the occasional boy or girl on the arm of a rich man.

He was already good and nervous when he finally decided on a white shirt, a black vest (not his favorite, with the patches and pins and buttons, but a nice gray pinstripe one he didn’t get much use out of, and dark jeans. His boots were the same old beat up ones but he didn’t have any others and it would just have to do and he was very seriously considering just calling the whole thing off when his phone chimed.

It was Mr. Amicitia again, asking how he was getting to the Market District. The area was busy, he explained in a few short messages, and parking was going to be impossible so he could send a car, if Prompto wanted. Prompto had balked, hastily typed back that he was going to take the bus, only to get a very short ‘No. I’ll send Jared. Address?’

He ended up giving the address of the coffee shop around the corner, where Noctis still worked a few days a week. He’d never let a client know where where he lived before and he wasn’t about to change that now.

If Jared, a kind faced older gentlemen, thought it odd he didn’t mention it. He only smiled, introduced himself, then opened the door for Prompto to slide into the back of a sleeking looking black car. It was very roomy in the back, with leather seats that were warm when he sat down, plenty of space to stretch out his legs, and a big bench seat easily long enough for him to lay down on.

Which he didn’t. Instead he spent the nearly 45 minutes fretting, compulsively tugging at his vest and smoothing out his jeans, not that there was much give or space in them with how tight they were, knee bouncing, fingers tapping, and checking his phone every five minutes to see if Noctis had gotten his messages or Mr. Amicitia had changed his mind.

Neither happened by the time Jared was pulling in front of the staircase that lead up to the walkway that started the district’s main strip, Luxury Row. The district itself was situated on one of the canals, four blocks on the east side and three blocks on the west, with the border of the west being the bay and the small white sand beach. Technically public, but with areas sectioned off for guests of the bayside hotels, and busy enough during the warmer months that Prompto had never felt the urge to go.

“Have a wonderful afternoon, sir.” Jared said in parting, after seeing Prompto safely onto the sidewalk. Prompto stood there a moment, trying to remember when, if ever, he’d been called sir before. Coming up blank he finally turned and walked up the stairs, to the main strip. It was full of people, bundled up against the cold, moving from place to place at a surprisingly sedate pace. No one was rushing or trying to weave in and out of the crowd but, rather, everyone was moving with the flow, strolling lazily as they admired the decorated windows and canal railings, pointed at the boats floating slowly past, all done up with lights and garland, and the floating lanterns bobbing beside them, candles not yet lit but still striking with their paper sides covered in flowing black ink.

Prompto moved with the crowd, feeling as if he were terribly out of place even though no one so much as looked his way. Jared had dropped him off with plenty of time to spare and so he too looked into windows, taking in the bright colored, designer themed Christmas displays. It was...tacky, honestly, but still kind of fun to wonder about what went into making glass ornament balls and ribbon with logos or draping a tree carefully in shimmering jewellery and watches in the most artful way possible.

There was a square of sorts in the middle of the strip; a large bridge that stretched over the canal, wide enough that cars could have passed side by side (but didn’t, because no cars could come here) with benches and trees and shrubs along the side and a large marble fountain in the center. Carved cherubs spat water when the weather was nice but today the fountain was off and laden with twinkling lights, barely visible during the day but no doubt impressive once the sun started to set.

Mr. Amicitia was there, like he’d said he’d be, waiting. He was dressed more casually than at the hotel, in dark slacks and a black woolen, fur edged coat. The top of his hair was pulled up into a ponytail, the bottom half allowed to hang free, and dark wire frame glasses sat on his nose. He was, if possible, even more handsome this way. Maybe. It was a toss up, really, and hard to focus beyond memories of how warm and strong had forceful he’d been at the hotel, fucking into Prompto with seemingly reckless abandon, only to zip up and be immaculate right after.

He had his hands shoved in his pocket but when he saw Prompto he smiled and drew one out to beckon him closer and, once he was in range, reached out to place it against the small of his back.

“The ride here was okay?” He asked as they began walking, Prompto allowing himself to be guided back the way he’d come from. He nodded, adding that Jared had been nice because it felt like the right thing to do. That earned him a quick smile and a nod. “Good, good. I wanted you to be comfortable. Do you mind walking with me a bit, before we eat? I’d like to talk a little first, about why I wanted you to come and meet me.”

Prompto smiled to hide his nervousness. “You mean you didn’t just want a repeat of the other night.”

Amber eyes darkened and the man’s tongue darted out to drag over his bottom lip. Prompto felt his face heat up. “No, I absolutely want a repeat. Many repeats, if you’ll allow it.”

“Oh.” Prompto breathed, ducking his head a little. The fingers against his back pressed a little harder, drug up his spine. “Um. I mean...that’s...fine?”

Mr. Amicitia smiled. “You sound unsure.”

“Well I ju-just mean. If it’s...sex.” He paused, eyes darting around to make sure no one was listening; the older man chuckled. “That’s no problem. I do that. We didn’t have to meet up for that.”

“And it’s not just sex?” Mr. Amicitia asked, fingers drifting back down his back as they walked. “You see,I am...a busy man, Prompto. I haven’t had time for a proper relationship in years because of it but I do still enjoy company, having something pretty on my arm when I go out, having someone to pay attention to, and someone for...intimate matters.” His voice dropped and, somehow, he made the word intimate sound absolutely filthy. “I was, until recently, in an arrangement someone else. He provided companionship and his time, when I needed it, and in return I took what I think was very good care of him. He’s since finished grad school and moved on. I saw you and was reminded of him. Cute, warm. You laugh a lot. I like that.”

The older man was smiling, small and fond. Prompto wondered what kind of idiot would ‘move on’ from a guy like this. Then, focusing more, frowned. An arrangement? Took care of? Was Mr. Amicitia offering him-

“I want those I be with to be with me and only me, which is why I’ve found that arrangements work best, as opposed to keeping many….professionals on call, or picking them up in bars.” He continued, head swiveling to look at, or for, something. “And I have some particular tastes, though nothing extreme or harmful. I don’t mind spending money, buying gifts, paying of...tuition, rent, things of that nature. I like my partners to be comfortable and want for nothing, and have the means to provide that. It’s selfish, because I like to be the main focus and taking money and the stress it causes out of the equation makes that possible.”

Prompto chewed his bottom lip, thoughts a whirlwind. This was really...he didn’t just want to fuck again, or a few more times, he wanted to...set him up. Like Specs had Noctis set up. But why him? Sure, he was like his old boyfriend (or sugar baby or whatever) but that wasn’t enough, was it?

“Ah, we’re here.” Prompto looked up at he was ushered through a door, trying to find a sign on the outside of the shop but found no markers. Just two windows full of glittering chains, rings, and bracelets in velvet boxes, set carefully on the branches of a small tree.

“Ay, Gladio!” The shop was empty, save a tanned man in a suit, who threw both arms up and out in greeting. “Good ta see ya. Dis the new boy you were talking about? Pretty thing.”

Mr. Amicitia nodded and nudged Prompto forward, to one of the display cases. “Dino, this is Prompto. Prompto, Dino. Did you have time for what I asked for?”

“Course I did. Had to stay up all night but for such a valued customer it was no problem.” Dino said as he bent down out of sight. “It’s nice, I promise you. Platinum chain, my nicest blue gem, got ‘em set real nice.”

Prompto could only watch, somewhere between shock and confusion, as Dino popped back up a moment later with a large velvet box and set it down on the glass in front of them. Mr. Amicitia was the one to open it, revealing a delicate silver colored chain, made with tiny interlocking loops, leading down to a clear blue crystal, tear dropped shaped. The setting at the top of the stone, holding it in place, looked like wings, some of the feathers fanning out over one side of the gem like...like they were cradling it.

It was one of the most beautiful things Prompto had ever seen, simple and yet not nearly as simple as it seemed at first glance.   

Mr. Amicitia nodded at Dino. “This is perfect. Charge me, the usual account. And give us a moment, if you don’t mind.”

“Take your time. I’m only open today for yous.” Dino said, waving dismissively. “Be in the back. Shout when you head out.”

And then they were alone. The box was pushed a bit closer to Prompto, who was tempted to snatch his hands away from the glass least he somehow ruin it, and Mr. Amicitia put his hand back on him. The shop suddenly felt much much warmer than it had a moment before. Prompto swallowed then, when the older man called his name softly, looked up.

“You like it?”

“I...I can’t take that, if you’re trying to give it to me. You don’t even know me! Why would you want-”

“Shhh.” He smiled, rough, cool hand cupping Prompto’s face and thumb pressing against his bottom lip. Prompto stopped, for lack of any idea of what else to do. “It’s not worth as much as you might think, and I….have a lot of money. I won’t notice the loss. And I like to see my boys in things I’ve boughten for them. Gets me hard.”

HIs eyes swept over Prompto again, heated as they lingered on his mouth; his thumb pressed harder. Prompto blinked, arousal settling in his stomach, strong and fast. His knees shook and six, he hadn’t felt weak in the knees over a guy since he was...fourteen? Maybe? But maybe before that even. That look...that fucking look was not fair. Not fair at all.

“I want you. I’d like to keep you and treat you better than anyone ever has. I want to drape you in jewels, dress you up in lace and silk, and take you out for everyone to see. Then take you apart when only I can see.” Mr. Amicitia’s thumb stroked his bottom lip, slow and unhurried, caught at the corner of his mouth and tugged just a little before slipping up to rest right in the seam.

“You don’t even know me.” Prompto mumbled, more breathless than he should have been.

“I want to. You don’t have to agree to anything yet, think of it as a...pre-arrangement. A test run. And if we get along we’ll make it more formal, discuss details and what we both need and...want.” His thumb pushed past his lips; Prompto breathed out slowly then opened his mouth, let the digit past his teeth to press against his tongue. His whole body tingled as the weight pressed down on his tongue, stroked it; and he wasn’t sure why what seemed like it should be weird was really working for him.

He sealed his lips around the man’s thumb, pressed his tongue up to curl around it, and sucked. Mr. Amictia made a noise of rumbling approval that went straight to Prompto’s dick.

“Does that sound good to you? I’ll spoil you a little, show you how it can be. We’ll get to know each other, and then we’ll see. Anything I give you, you can keep, and I’ll always compensate you for the time.”

Prompto moved his head forward, took more of the man’s thumb into his mouth, drooled around it as he let it slide in, out, then back in again, and made a noise of acceptance.

“Good boy.” Mr. Amicitia praised. “Let’s get this on you, and then I think I’d like to buy you something even prettier.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What does Gladio buy?
> 
> A. Something sweet, for a good boy, in pink and white. Perfect for a private afternoon in a hotel suite, with a sensual lunch made to be eaten from between fingers, while sitting in someone’s lap. 
> 
> B. Something naughty, for a bad boy, in black and purple. The sort of thing made for a romp in the parking garage of a perfectly respectable restaurant...or maybe in it’s private room, where anyone could overhear.


	4. Chapter 4

Something pretty, for Mr. Amicitia, apparently meant buying Prompto anything that caught his eye and a ton more besides. They went from store to store, where shopkeepers and workers practically mowed each other down to be the ones helping them, and Mr. Amicitia bought things without considering price, how much he'd bought, or showing the barest hint that such a thing mattered to him. 

The only thing he seemed to care about was getting to see Prompto try things on. 

First was a coat shop. Prompto had a winter coat in, second hand and a little worn but warm enough, even if it was an unappealing brown color. He'd never had any complaints and that was more important than how it looked to him. Inside the shop he was taken to a mirror lined room, with an elevated platform in the middle, had his coat whisked off to parts unknown, and was given at least a dozen to try on while Mr. Amicitia watched, an interested gleam in his eyes. 

In the end he left in a soft, warm, fur edged, navy blue, knee length peacoat, that had all his stuff loaded in the pockets somehow. There was another coat, the same but in black, as well but it was going to be tailored then packed up with a promise to deliver it soon. 

Deliver it to where Prompto wasn't sure but he never got a chance to ask because they were on to the next place. There a petite man once again escorted them to a room and, at Mr. Amicitia’s behest, began bringing clothes for him to try on. At first glance it was just jeans and shirts in various styles, but Prompto was willing to guess it was all disgustingly expensive. The next store had suits, and the one after that yet more clothes. He felt strange putting things on under Mr. Amicitia’s watchful eyes though at least the increasingly hungry gleam he saw in them was something he understood and could work with to center himself as the pile of ‘yes’s and the number of stores they drifted through grew and grew. 

A man looking at him with head in his eyes, slowly taking in the lines of his body, lingering over his chest, and the metal rings in his nipples, and on his was when he was facing away but could still see in the mirror was normal. Dependable. It was the face of a man who wanted to fuck him. 

Prompto hadn't meant many people who wanted to buy him things or treat him nicely, as in the only person who had ever wanted to treat him well was Noctis, and being taken around and having nice things thrown at him was...it was a lot. He tried to refuse a few times (it was too much,  way too much from a man he didn't know) but was routinely ignored and after a life of people wanting to take all the could while giving nothing back...it was hard to wrap his brain around. But see how Mr. Amicitia seemed to be enjoying it made it easier. 

Even if how sharp and hungry his expression became when his eyes fell in the pendant and chain, now secure around Prompto's neck, tucked under his shirt where it could hand and brush against his bare skin, or how very pleased he seemed to get every time Prompto put the new coat on was a little strange. He had said he liked to see ‘his boys’ wearing things he'd bought but Prompto had figured that was just talk, an in the moment thing. The way those amber eyes filled with want and caressed the pendant everytime it was visible made it very clear it was more than just talk. 

He looked like he wanted to eat Prompto, which, even if it was for a weird reason, was familiar enough. 

They were bundling up after another store, had seen Prompto trying on a few hooded sweatshirts and a beautiful pair of boots, when Mr. Amicitia brought up lunch. And, more to the point, where to have it. 

“If you didn't mind, my company keeps a suite in one of the hotels overlooking the bay. The hotel has a few fantastic restaurants in it, and any will deliver to the room.” Mr. Amicitia said as he pulled his gloves back on, that lone bag they had with them resting at his feet. Prompto wasn’t sure what was in it, aside from it being two small shiny red clothing boxes, or what exactly Mr. Amicitia had picked them up. Just that at some point during their trip he’d looked to the side and noticed that man holding the unmarked black paper tote.  

Prompto hesitated, teeth clamping down on his bottom lip as he thought through the request. A room in a hotel he didn't know, with a man who could easily overpower him. It was a risk, he had no idea what could be waiting for him there or even who; there could be a bunch of other guys waiting for a shot at him and this whole day could have been some sort of scam, to get him to lower his defenses. Mr. Amicitia could be a crazed murderer. Agreeing would be contrary to his rules, and against his much better judgement. Noct would throw a fit. 

The pendant grew heavier around his neck and thumped solidly against his sternum. 

“You're concerned.” Mr. Amicitia stepped closer, head cocked to the side. “Would it help if I told you my intentions?” 

“...wouldn't hurt.” Of course he could be lying, but some insight into what he wanted, or was claiming to want, couldn't be a bad thing.

That earned him a smile, sharp and fleeting. “I want to take you to a room and have you put on something I've picked out and wear it during lunch. I'd like you finish close to me, or in my lap, while I feed you. And then I'm going to fuck your mouth, nice and slow. Not to get off, though I'm sure you'd look amazing with my come all over your face, dripping from your tongue.” 

Mr. Amicitia paused long enough to put a hand on his shoulder and squeeze, to lean close enough that they were breathing the same air, lips nearly touching. If the older man cared about the staff in the shop it didn't show and, each warm puff of air caressed his mouth Prompto wasn't sure he cared either. Wasn't like he had a reputation to be worried about. 

“I just want to see your lips around my cock, and to know if you take it there as good as you did in that cute little ass.” Another squeeze and Mr. Amicitia’s eyes were bright, molten amber, burning his skin with their intensity. “And then I'm going to spread you out and fuck you, until you come from just my cock. Then I think I'd like to finish on your ass or back.” 

Prompto’s stomach churned and clenched and, without realizing it, he'd started breathing harder. He was starting to sweat and his cock, traitor that it was becoming, was thickening in his jeans. He'd heard worse, really vulgar and graphic stuff that veered right into ‘eww’ gross territory. This was blunt, very blunt, but...not gross. He wasn't disgusted or struggling to maintain his ‘character’. Each word struck home like words hadn't since he was young and stupid, whenever the hell that had been, felt like heat injected right into his blood and stomach, boiling inside. 

“Would it help if let you pick the hotel?” Mr. Amicitia asked, a smile working at his lips. Prompto got the distinct feeling the older man knew that his words had gotten to him, really gotten to him, and was enjoying that fact immensely. “There’s about a dozen to choose from on this side of the bay, and you would know I haven’t set anything up in advance.”

That would actually help a lot. There was still some risk but many of Prompto’s big fears would be, at least temporarily, laid to rest that way, yes. But- “What about your company suite?” 

“It’s at the Symmetra, so don’t choose that one, and don’t worry about things like that.” The hand on his shoulder slid down to find a spot between his shoulder blades, warm even through the many layers Prompto was wearing. “You have other things to focus on. Or I can call Jared and have you and your new things driven home, and we’ll set up a meeting for another day.” 

Prompto regarded him, with his dark eyes and scarred face, and realized Mr. Amicitia meant every word. He would let Prompto leave, with the stuff he’d bought for him, and not just with no hard feelings but with plans to meet up some other time. That was just...how could someone be so...well, Prompto didn’t want to say nice, since Mr. Amicitia’s goal was fucking him, so it wasn’t like he was selfless, but still it was very...accommodating. 

He looked down at the scuffed toes of his boots, and thought about the new ones being boxed up and put somewhere for him, and nodded slowly. “Okay. If I can pick.” 

\---

He settled on the Aetria Hotel, a vaguely pyramid shaped building made of glass and sleek black lines. The front lobby had marble floors, large chandeliers dripping with crystals and lights, and plush looking couches and chairs, arranged in small sitting areas with suit wearing staff flitting about, bringing drinks to lounging patrons. They checked in quickly, without the man behind the counter even sparing Prompto a look. He was polite to Mr. Amicitia, of course, asked if there were bags or further needs but his eyes seemed to slide right over Prompto. 

He wasn’t sure if he was relieved or embarrassed but either way he was all too happy to be guided to the elevators and up to the ‘Executive Suite’. 

It was a big room, bright and cheery with everything done in creams with chocolate accents, warm woods, and gauzy curtains over the floor to ceiling windows in the front/sitting room. He could see a closed in sitting room past the window, with sturdy looking wicker furniture and elevated fire pit. A quick peek around the corner at the back of the front room showed a bedroom, with a king sized bed, with cream and chocolate linens, tasteful art on the wall and then, separated only by a step down into another warmly lit room, the bathroom.  He lingered there, wide-eyed at the sheer size of the shower (he could fit everyone in his physics lab in that stall, easy) and the sunken tub a person could get lost in before returning to Mr. Amicitia in the front room. The man was eyeing what looked like a menu thoughtfully but was quick to look up and offer him a smile when he heard him coming. 

“Looks good?”

“Um. This is really nice.” Way nicer than anywhere he’d ever been. 

“Good. Do you mind if I order for us? I have some things in the bag,” He gestured towards the black tote. “I’m hoping you’ll consider wearing. And you can try out that bathroom you were eyeing up. The tub looked impressive.” 

Prompto coughed, cheeks warming at being caught looking amazed as he was, then nodded. He grabbed the bag and went back to the bathroom and, after a moment of thought, went for the tub as suggested. He put his clothes on the sink to sit while the water ran then began pulling things out of the bag. 

Two small bottles of lube, pomegranate and raspberry favored, and a box of condoms came out first, set next to his clothes, then the boxes. They were glossy black with the raised mark of some shop, a symbol not a word, on it. Inside there was tissue paper folded over and tucked around the contents. 

In the first box was a corset and panties; the cups of the corset were a pale pink, covered in a layer of sheer pink that extended down into the bodice. Small white roses and dark green leaves were printed along the edges of the cups then down the front and sides of the corset, where the boning was. The panties matched, sheer in the back, with roses printed on the front, from waistband down to the curve of the leg cutouts. 

He touched the corset, curious. It was butter soft and smooth; his finger slid over it easily. 

The next box was less ‘fancy’ than the first. Pale pink cotton panties, boy short cut, with white edging around the legs and cutting up the sides and a thick waistband. There was a matching pink lace bralette with white frilled edging and a cute little white bow between the cups. Socks, knee high, white with pink bands around the top of them. 

Prompto replaced the tops of the boxes, the thought of just how hard Noctis would laugh at him when he found out about this. He’d always given his friend shit about Mr. Specs and the entire dresser drawer of silky, lacy, itty bitty, cut out, sheer, and so on and so on lingerie he’d been gathering over the months. Playfully, because it was such a mild tiny kink and because Noctis seemed to be a little into it, and it was just so...adorable. And sweet. 

And now here he was, about to play the same game himself. He didn’t see the point, it wasn’t like he had anything to fill the bralette or a figure worth dressing up, and being naked was more to the point, but it was so far from the worst he’d ever done than he didn’t even consider not going along with it. Of all the places he might be motivated to draw lines bras and panties were not going to be it. 

Especially not if he could manage to keep getting access to amazing bathtubs. He soaked for a while, the oil he’d poured in while the water was running making the water smell of lavender and feel silky against his skin. He could have stayed there forever, just floating and listening to the sounds from the front room: Mr. Amicitia’s low rumbling voice, the words indistinguishable with distance and the water covering most of his head and face, then a low drone of music and shuffling sounds of the older man moving around in the front room. 

A sharp knock and the sounds of voices made him sit up and climb from the tub, a spike of panic hitting him in the stomach. He knew it was probably room service but he needed to hear it, to wrap up in a towel and take a peek around the corner of the bedroom, to see that Mr. Amicitia was alone and moving plates from a cart to the table in the front room, now covered with a stark white cloth. 

Back in the bathroom, content in the knowledge no one else had appeared to try and do something to him, he decided on a box and, after giving it some thought, a lube as well. He bent over the sink, legs spread so he could reach back and work his fingers into himself, quickly slicking and opening himself up as quick as he could stand, before finally getting dressed. He stopped to look at himself in a mirror before leaving, a little surprised at how...not ridiculous he looked. The pink sat nice against his pale skin, the bralette fit tightly to his chest, the deep v allowing the pendant to be front and center, and when he turned he saw the panties fit well too, cutting right above the bottom of his cheeks. Even the socks looked nice, clinging to his calves as they were. 

He pushed his hair back, tugged at the bralette to make sure it was straight, and took a deep steadying breath before padding back out to the front room. Mr. Amicitia was sitting at the table, multiple dishes and bowls, as well as cups and a pitcher, piled onto it. Prompto hovered by the entranceway for a moment, uncertain in what he was wearing and not at all sure what his next move should be. 

“Come here, please.” Mr. Amicitia said, pushing away from the table some. “Sit here, with me.” 

Prompto did so, laughing uneasily as he let himself be arranged to sit on one thigh and let his legs dangle over the other. A large hand settled on the curve of his ass, cupped it. Prompto wiggled a little, bottom lip between his teeth. 

This was...well. 

Not even close to the strangest thing. 

The older man’s other hand skimmed his body, over his legs, between his thighs, feather light touch over the bulge his cock made in the panties, then up over his torso. He lingered over his chest, playing with the hoops of his piercings through the bralette, a strange combination of soft lace and rough fingers tweaking his nipples. Last he touched the pendant, fingering the gem. 

“You look wonderful. Thank you.” 

Prompto ducked his head, face heating up again. “Ohh. Um. I’m glad you like it.” Though he still wasn’t sure he saw the point. 

“I like to take care of my boys.” Mr. Amicitia said, as if explaining the question Prompto had been unwilling to voice. “Dress them up pretty and sweet, keep them close and feed them, maybe give them a bath after. As far as kinks go it’s pretty boring.” 

Prompto looked up at the man through lowered lashes. “Some people appreciate less...exciting kinks.” 

Mr. Amicitia hummed, thoughtful, then smiled toothily. “Well they aren’t all boring, but there’s time to learn all about those, don’t you think. Food now.” 

Prompto had never had anyone hand feed him before and the first bites of chilled shrimp were tentative, worry about looking messy or biting the man’s fingers holding him back. He nibbled carefully, tilting his head to get what he could without getting too close to skin; he barely tasted what he was eating, anxiety at the forefront of his mind. He knew he had to look stupid and was sure that at any moment he’d be pushed right onto the floor and told to get lost for ruining things. 

Did Noctis ever do this with Mr. Specs? Did he blush and squirm and feel like an idiot while he did it. 

“Relax. Don’t worry about putting your mouth on me.” When he said it like that, suggestive and amused, it suddenly felt very stupid to have been worried about it at all. If he hadn’t wanted Prompto’s mouth on his fingers they wouldn’t be doing this like this, right? 

He made himself relax, getting closer to the thick fingers, letting his teeth graze the tips as bit buttery, sweet shrimp below the tails and managed to open up for oysters to be tipped back into his waiting mouth, sliding over his tongue, without feeling too awkward. There was asparagus wrapped in salty meat and creamy cheese on toasted bread after that and, maybe, something about having to chase the bites while Mr. Amicitia laughed, and the occasional taste of salt and skin added something to the experience. Or at least made it less silly, since he could feel just how much the older man was enjoying it all pressed against his backside.  

When they moved on to bits of chilled fruit with chocolate shells, cherries, orange slices, and strawberries, he sucked them from Mr. Amiticia’s grip, letting the fresh sweet and tartness linger as the chocolate melted on his tongue before going back over with his tongue to lick juice away. The taste was more skin than fruit in those moments but he chased every drop anyway, sliding his mouth and tongue down to the webbing between fingers and lavishing attention over the man’s palm. He sucked two fingers into his mouth, twisting his tongue around them. 

Mr. Amicitia twisted his wrist so he could push against his tongue, holding it down as the pads of his fingers rubbed and searched, forcing his lips and teeth parted until drool was dribbling down his chin. Amber eyes were trained on his mouth, watching with almost scary focus. 

“Messy.” He murmured , fingers sliding deeper, tickling his throat. “I want you to suck my cock now. Can you do that for me?” 

Prompto nodded as best he could. 

He was nudged up to his feet and watched, breath coming in short bursts, as Mr. Amicitia undid his pants and pulled his cock free. He hadn’t gotten to see it last time, bent over towards a wall and then too fucked out to bother, before, but now he was able to drink his fill. It was big and thick, curved upwards just a little, and slick at the flushed red head. He watched as Mr. Amicitia drug a hand up the length, twisting near the head; a thick bead of precum oozed from the slit. 

“How would you like to do this?” He asked, thumb smearing precum over his cock. “Here, on your knees, or the bed?” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A. On his knees, Gladio in full control, face/throat fucking  
> B. On the bed, 69 with rimming.


	5. Chapter 5

 

It took Prompto an embarrassing amount of time to even process the question because it was so shocking. He spent a few more seconds trying to remember if anyone had *ever* asked him how he wanted to do anything pertaining to sex then, finding the answer decidedly troubling, dismissed the thought in favor of actually thinking about what he wanted to do.

What he wanted to do. What a crazy concept. He was going to be spoiled after this, being pampered and given choices? How was he supposed to go back to fucking jackasses who treated him the same way they would a wet hole in the ground after this? But, no, he couldn't let this go to his head. At the end of the day this was no different. It was business,  he was working, and had to keep that in mind if he was going to keep working. He wasn't Noctis, who'd found someone amazing on a fluke. This was someone who'd paid to fuck him and wanted to keep doing so. 

He glanced back towards the bedroom then took a deep breath. He smiled, slow and sultry then dragged his tongue over his bottom lip. “Here.” 

Getting on his need was familiar territory. He knew it like he knew his own hand, knew what to expect with it. Not that giving head in the bed would be any different but, at the same time, maybe it would. At least on the ground, on his knees, was just like any other blow job with any other client. 

Mr. Amicitia sat further back in his chair, legs spreading in clear invitation. Prompto dropped to his knees easily, tongue dragging over his lips again as he came to be face to face with Mr. Amicitia dick. There was a black metal hoop piercing the head, capture bead style. Mr. Amitcia’s hand was still moving over it in languid strokes, more fluid beading from the slit and dripping down around the ring. There was a row or metal balls directly below the head, a frenum barbell, then further down the shaft, right at the base, a smaller capture bead ring.  

Prompto was no stranger to piercings, he’d even had a few in his mouth in his time, though he usually catered to older guys who weren’t into that sort of thing but he found himself fascinated, drawn in by the way the piercings shifted, vanishing and reappearing with each pass of the tight O Mr. Amicitia’s fingers formed, dragging up and down unhurriedly. 

“Remember what I said, about fucking your mouth?” Mr. Amicitia asked; when Prompto nodded, gaze still intent on the dick bobbing in front of him like some sort of profane offering, he continued. “If you need to stop,  tap my leg and we’ll stop. I don’t want to hurt you...not right now at least. I just want you to be good for me, and do what I say. You can do that right?” 

Prompto quirked an eyebrow at the addition, earning himself a wry grin. Then, when Mr. Amicitia lifted an eyebrow in return, he nodded. “Got it. I can...I’ll be good for you. I’m good at this.” 

He was a professional, for lack of a better term, and if his heart leapt a little as he promised to be good, well, that was only for him to know, 

“‘Course you are, with a pretty mouth like that.” Mr. Amicitia put a hand on his head, threaded his fingers through his hair and then cupped the base of his skull, pulling him in until his lips were pressed against the tip, precum smearing against them. His other hand slid down to hold his cock steady. “Lick it. Get me nice and wet Prompto.” 

Prompto kissed first, lips parting against the tip, then flicked his tongue out, carefully dragging along the underside of the head then swirling over the tip. The ring was cool against his tongue, perfectly smooth where Gladio had texture. He poked his tongue into the ring, tasted metal and precum as he laved at the slit then drug back down to curl around the shaft, leaving it wet and shining with his spit. He tongued the underside, tracing veins, sucking open mouthed and messy along the soft skin, stretched taut over hot muscle, until he was at the base. He tongued the piercing then took the ball between his teeth to pull gently, grinning at the sharp gasp that came from above him.  

He looked up as he fit his mouth around the piercing, sucked and worked it with his tongue, watching as Mr. Amictia’s eyes dropped to half mast. The hand cradling his head tightened, pulled at the short hairs at the base of his neck until he moved, guided him back up wordlessly. He licked his way back up in wide, wet stripes, leaving Mr. Amicitia wet and dripping. 

“Good, that’s good.” Was murmured down at him. “Now open up for me, just like that. Perfect, that’s perfect.”

Prompto let himself be guided down with a firm hand, mouth open and tongue out, as the head of Mr. Amictia’s cock was fed into his mouth. Drool began to pool in his mouth as he waited to be told what to do next, heart hammering with an excitement he couldn't remember feeling before. It was...strange, the rush he felt as Mr. Amiticia’s cock rubbed against his tongue, the thrum in his stomach as bitter salt dripped on his tongue. 

He was pushed down further, forced his jaw and throat to go slack as more of the older man’s cock slide into mouth, pushed at the back. Mr. Amicitia’s hips pushed up, driving his cock deeper, into his throat in one harsh shove.

Prompto moaned, wet and gurgling, before he even realized he was making the noise. Mr. Amicitia smiled, straight even teeth flashing, and pushed him down further, harder, filled his throat as far as he could before Prompto gagged. He let up a little “Suck, if you can.”

He did as told, hollowing his cheeks out and swallowing around the hard shaft in his mouth but there wasn’t much more to be done as Mr. Amicitia began to thrust into his mouth, slow and lazy. The hand on his head moved him in counterpoint, up when Mr. Amicitia’s hips were down, down when his hips came up, forcing more and more of the man’s length into his throat with each pass. It was harder than he’d expected, letting himself be moved and used in this way, and not . He had a way of doing things, knew how to get a guy off in next to no time at all, had perfected the art, but this wasn’t about him doing what he was good at, like all of his other clients paid for and like he usually wanted to happen, so it was done and over with. 

No, it was about giving over control so Mr. Amicitia could use him as he saw fit and obeying and, oh, the praise that came was worth fighting with himself. Mr. Amicitia rocked in and out of his mouth, a steady stream of ‘good boy’ ‘just like that’ and ‘you’re doing so good’ falling over him and making his blood race. His cock thickened in the panties, pushing against the soft fabric, and his balls grew heavy between his legs. He squirmed, trying to lessen pressure and make himself more comfortable, but the feel of the panties stretching and rubbing against him was just a maddening tease, made worse by his movement. 

His throat felt bruised, was tingling and convulsing with the effort to suppress his gagging, by the time he’d taken in enough for his nose to press into short wiry curls. A hand cupped his face, made him tilt his head back just enough to change the angle and let Mr. Amicitia sink in a little further, completely filling his throat. He panted and groaned, the rough rasp of Mr. Amiticia’s zipper as harsh against his skin as his steady, guiding hand was gentle. 

His eyes watered and his jaw began to ache but he endured, slurping and drooling, focusing on breathing and keeping his teeth tucked away. He felt him, twitching and throbbing, tasted his thick and heady on the back of his tongue when he drew back to let him suck in a bit more air before dragging him back down. Spit leaked out the corners of his mouth, down his chin and neck, forced out in thick streams with each thrust into his mouth.  

He parted his lips, tried to suck in air around the cock in his mouth, and swallowed again, blinking frantically. He was held down, motionless, and grunted softly as Mr. Amicitia fucked into his mouth in short, brutal thrusts. His pace speed up, hips snapping up hard as he took Prompto’s mouth, and the head of his cock rubbed him raw as the bits of metal tickled the inside of his throat. His stomach churned and his eyes slipped shut as he opened a bit wider and sank deeper into the moment. 

Breathe, slow and shallow, hum and suck, tongue, breathe.

His eyes watered and his jaw began to ache but he endured, slurping and drooling, focusing on breathing and keeping his teeth tucked away. He felt him, twitching and throbbing, tasted his thick and heady on the back of his tongue when he drew back to let him suck in a bit more air before dragging him back down and holding him still while he once again took what he wanted. 

He could feel that Mr. Amicitia was getting close and forced himself to stay put as the thrusts turned sloppy and erratic, as he was forced to hold him in his throat longer without the short breaks, as the grip in his hair tightened. His own cock was throbbing in the panties, tip pressed tight against the waistband as it tried to escape the tight confines, and even as his mind fogged up he knew he hadn’t been hard like this, from just sucking someone off, ever. 

Even when his lungs demanded air and his stomach churned he didn’t indicate he wanted to stop. He didn’t want to, not really, not when he could taste how close the older man was. He wanted to prove he could do this, could be good, and he didn’t know why but he eagerly gagged, swallowed, and sucked even as his head began to spin. 

When Prompto was yanked up and off with a wet pop he could only pant and gasp, dragging air into burning lungs as saliva poured from his mouth. Thick sticky streams connected his mouth to Mr. Amicitia’s cock, pulled and snapped as the older man fisted his cock and began to tug at it in fast, hard strokes. 

“Keep your mouth open. Tongue out.” Mr. Amicitia said through gritted teeth. 

The first stripe of cum landed over his mouth and tongue, painted them in bitterness. The next hit his nose, left a thick splatter on his skin, then his cheek, over his lips. He sat, chest heaving, as the older man made an even bigger mess of him, holding what he caught of Mr. Amicitia’s release in his open mouth as the rest began to slide over his skin, hot and clinging. He knew he must have been a mess, covered in spit and cum, achingly hard in his suddenly far too small panties, but the way Mr. Amicitia looked down him was full of nothing but heat and want. 

“Swallow it.” He closed his mouth and swallowed once, twice, to clear his mouth then open up to show he’d obeyed without being told. The older man smiled, breathless but pleased, as he ran a thumb over Prompto’s nose, gathering up his seed. He was ready when the thumb touched his lips and took it into his mouth, licking and sucking it clean. 

“Good boy. Go wipe your face then get onto the bed, face down. Bring the lube and condoms.” 

Prompto’s legs protested when he pushed himself off the floor but after a few wobbly steps he was doing as he was told. Mr Amicitia followed after him, stripping off and letting his clothes make a trail across the floor, and was standing by the bed when Prompto returned from the bathroom. He handed over the items then climbed onto the bed, head on a pillow and arms crossed under it. The bed dipped when the older man climbed up and then hands were between his thighs, pushing them apart to make room for Mr. Amicitia to kneel between his legs. 

“We have time to kill before I’m ready to go again and I think you’ve earned a reward.” Fingers skimmed up the back of his calf; Prompto jerked a little, the touch somewhere between tickling him and feeling entirely too good for something so benign. “Do you want me to touch you or kiss you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Who here is surprised that Prompto doesn’t indicate he should be let up to breathe/might need to pause, even when he’s been told he should? No one? Yeahhh)  
> Anyway!
> 
> A. Kiss  
> B. Touch


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kisses.

Prompto’s head whipped around to stare back at the man, eyes wide. Mr. Amicitia frowned slightly, hand lifting off of him. It was strange, silly, how quickly Prompto missed the warm pressure against his skin. He knew better than to get comfortable or enjoy himself too much, this was a job after all, and he’d been down that road before. It ended in disaster and sadness, at best, and at worse...well.  

“Did I say something wrong?” 

Why did he had to be so damn nice? It would be easier if he was a jerk or, at least, nothing more than a wallet and dick attached to a face he’d forget while sucking them off. Blank, personalityless, just twenty minutes out of his day, not even a name let alone soft touches and so many damn options. 

It was throwing him off. 

“I don’t...I don’t really kiss.” Prompto murmured, eyes falling shut and face falling back onto his arms. “It’s not, you know, a ‘No’ sort of thing, I just don’t do it much. I’m probably bad at it.” 

He’d seen that movie, with the hooker who refused to kiss because it was too personal and he could sort of see that logic because when you’d seen and taken a bunch of dicks it was the little, innocent things that seemed special, but that wasn’t what it was for him. He just found it was a very rare dude who wanted to kiss the guy he’d just paid to suck him off. 

There were a few who wanted to kiss after but that was more along the vein of ‘don’t swallow, spit it into my mouth’ and Prompto choose to carefully separate that from the eager, awkward makeouts of his early teenage years or, even, the messy, drunken, giggly kisses he and Noctis had exchanged a few times. 

Mr. Amicitia hummed thoughtfully, no trace of anger or mockery in his voice. A warm hand wrapped around his ankle, eased his leg up so his knee was bent and his foot was off the bed. “We should fix that then, shouldn’t we?” 

His left sock was tugged off and dropped aside and, before Prompto could figure out what that was about, lips pressed against the sole of his foot. Prompto jerked away with a surprised laugh. Mr. Amicitia laughed as well, even as he held his ankle tighter to keep him from squirming away, and then dropped another kiss to the back of his foot, peppering them up his achilles tendon to his calf, hand sliding around to the front of his leg.  

It tickled at first, every touch of slick lips against his skin making him want to laugh, and it seemed silly but by the time Mr. Amicitia was at the back of his knee, one hand curled under and the other moving up higher, a promise of what was to come, he was squirming against the mattress. The brush of long hair against his skin and the rasp of facial hair against his skin, the light scraping of teeth and flicks of tongue between kisses, somehow finding places he hadn’t thought were sensitive, even the feel of saliva drying in the man’s wake, became tormenting teases. 

His legs were pushed a little further apart, giving more access for the older man to follow the path of his hand. The kisses were feather light, barely there, trailing up his inner thigh like a ghost. Prompto gasped then groaned, each barely there touch of lips making his skin prickle with anticipation, each gentle press of teeth into the meat of his thigh making him twitch, each puff of moist air seeming to go straight to his cock. 

Soon Mr. Amicitia was nosing at the bottom curve of his ass, breathing hot and heavy through the fabric of his panties, right above his balls. Prompto’s stomach clenched  and his body tensed waiting. 

Mr. Amicitia nipped his ass then slid away, back down the bed to where he’d started, took him by the other ankle and yanked off his sock. Prompto groaned in frustration; he felt the burst of laughter the older man let out in response against his heel. 

He wasn’t totally sure, since he lacked a way to tell time, but he was almost positive Mr. Amicitia went even slower up his other leg, inching upwards with wet, sucking overlapping kisses and long swirls of tongue, different from how he’d attacked the left leg and yet just as much of a tease. Prompto groaned and swore, rocked against the suddenly too soft mattress, cock hard and throbbing. 

This was...entirely too much. It shouldn’t have been, it was weird and taking forever, slow and playful and...and...something else. Something that was making him light headed as lips found his spine, dipped into the small of his back with a long swipe of tongue, made his heart pound as Mr. Amiticia’s hands ran up his sides, stroked and squeezed as his mouth progressed upwarads. Had he ever been the center of attention like this before, his body the sole focus of someone’s attention, as if he was more than a place for their cocks to go? 

He didn’t consider himself a whole lot to look at once his clothes came off, pale and freckles, old scars and stretchmarks, more weight in places than he would have liked no matter how much he worked out or watched what he ate. But under Mr. Amicitia’s hands and searching mouth, moving from one shoulder blade to the other then back to suck and bite at the back of his neck, up to his ear to bite and tug the lobe, to murmur quiet nonsense about how good he looked laid out for him, about how patient and perfect he was, about how he could kiss him for hours, he felt like he might had been...more. 

He blinked once, twice, then shut his eyes hard. 

Now was not the time for sappy self awareness shit or to breakdown over one randomly nice client. Not when he was this hard and could feel that Mr. Amicitia was hard too, cock brand hot as it rubbed along the cloth covered crack of his ass. Prompto pushed back into the cradle of the older man’s hips, ground his dick in a silent request. 

“Ah.” Mr. Amicitia breathed against the shell of his ear. “I’m not done kissing you yet. Roll over for me.” 

Prompto huffed a little as the older man lifted away from him but did as he was told. He made a face, pouting dramatically but there was no sympathy coming from Mr. Amicitia. Amber eyes regarded him, darkly amused, as he lowered his head to drag his tongue over one of his nipples. His teeth caught the piercing, tugged in between his lips and into the heat of his mouth; he alternated between flicks of his tongue, dripping wet kisses, and playful bites and sucks, moving from one side to the other and back. He used his fingers as well, pinching and pulling, first lightly and then harder when Prompto voiced his approval. 

He did like it a little rough when he could get it and Mr. Amicitia seemed happy to oblige but, also, happy to tease. When Prompto lifted his hips, trying to rut against the older man’s body sprawled between his legs, a hand curled around his hip and pushed him back and held him there with impressive strength. 

His cock twitched and a moan dripped from his mouth at the realization that he was literally being kept in place one handed.

Prompto was panting, hands fisting in the comforter, nipples flushed red and standing at attention when Mr. Amicitia finally moved on. More kisses, once again falling and brushing over him like soft feathers, flowed over his chest and stomach, not stopping until Mr. Amicitia was at the waistband of his panties. The front was stretched uncomfortably tight around his cock and precome had soaked through right above the head, leaving a dark coin sized spot in the pale pink fabric.  

“Lift up.”  

He didn’t need to be told twice. The panties came off and went to wherever the socks were, probably. His cock jumped up, head slick and darkened with blood, and he groaned in relief. The older man smiled up at him again, fleetingly, then pursed his lips to blow softly against the tip. Prompto twitched, toes curling, and swore. 

“You’ve got a pretty cock Prompto.” Mr. Amicitia side, tongue sliding over his lips. “Next time I think I’ll bring a ring, keep you hard like this for hours. Or a cage. A nice silver cage to keep your cock in while I take you out, tease you in public until you’re begging to touch yourself, then bring you back here to fuck you.” 

A fingertip dragged over him from tip to root, unhurried. Prompto swallowed hard, lips parted around a distressingly pathetic sound. A strange sort of wild heat was building in his chest, wanted to burst free from his body, every work from Mr. Amictia’s mouth fuel for it. He dropped a little closer to his cock, let Prompto feel the brush of his lips and the heat of his breath as he spoke. 

Was it possible to get off from dirty talk? 

Because that would be fling self from balcony level of embarrassing. 

“I don’t think I’d touch your cock. I’d make you come on my dick and if you didn’t I’d just send you home like that, hard. Right on the edge, hurting because you want to get off so bad. Wet and sloppy, gaping from taking my dick.” 

He punctuated the words with a long swirl on tongue over the head of his cock; it was electricity zipping right up his spine. Prompto shouted, back arching up off of the bed and heels digging into the bed. Mr. Amicitia waited until he was settled again, face burning hot and breath coming out harshly. He would have been mortified if not for the approving look on the man’s face, as if Prompto had done something right in reacting like it was the first time someone had touched his dick. 

Another long lick, over the head, tip dragging into the slit and then Mr. Amicitia was mouthing along the shaft. His tongue moulded to the underside, mapped out the veins he found there, left him slick and throbbing when he moved on to lap at his sack and mouth at him wetly. A hand caught Prompto under the knee, guided his leg up and back until it was nearly touching his chest. His other leg was lifted to fall over Mr. Amicitia’s shoulder. 

Mr. Amicitia made a sound, a mixture of surprise and approval, and a finger swiped at his asshole, circled it teasingly. “You’re all slick for me. I think that deserves a reward, don’t you?” 

He knew it was coming, was practically vibrating with anticipation, and he still jolted when Mr. Amicitia breathed against his entrance. Warm wetness dripped down onto his rim, was spread over the trembling muscle by rough fingers. More spit, enough to have it start dripping down in tickling streams and then his tongue was there, catching the saliva and dragging it back up.  The flat of Mr. Amicitia’s tongue circled his rim, hot and wet and oh fucking shit that was

Really 

“Oh!” 

Rough hands held him up and open for Mr. Amicitia’s mouth as he painted tight circles, wide lazy spirals, and sharp zigzags against him, movingly fluidly between using his whole tongue and just the tip. He flicked at his rim with kitten licks, working his tongue in a half circle from one side to the other, then dragged up and down before tilting his head to scrap teeth against the sensitive muscle. Prompto’s leg jerked, nearly dropped down, and his thighs shook. His cock bobbed against his belly, drooled precum in thick strings to pool over his skin, and his eyes crossed. 

“Fuck.” He whispered, stomach twisting hard and heart thudding in his chest. “Fuck fuck fuck.” 

Mr. Amicitia’s mouth quirked upwards briefly, lips plush and spit slick, and then fit around his entrance. He began sucking at his rim lightly, nibbling and wriggling his tongue and a hand was wrapping around Prompto’s cock, squeezing at the base then dragging up. Prompto made that sound again, breath and whiney and pulled from deep inside of him, a shameful keening he couldn’t hope to keep behind his teeth.

So much for not enjoying it too much though, in his defense, this was a first (even when he’d still been letting men fuck him he’d never encountered one interested in eating his ass) and it was...hot and wet, his nerves were on fire, every muscle in his body was melting and he was just falling apart, trying desperately to not thrash around as the hand stroking his cock started to move faster. He was hot all over, sweating and squirming, mouth open and drooling behind the hand he’d clamped over it to muffle the absolutely filthy sounds he was making. 

Not quite as filthy as the wet, obscene sounds Mr. Amicitia was making as he started to lick into the softened ring of muscle, the flat of his tongue stroking just inside his rim, but close. His tongue wriggled, curled and twisted as it fucked in and out of him, leaving no part it could reach untouched before sliding back to resume lapping just outside of his body. 

His hips rocked, pushed down against the older man’s face shamelessly. He was close, embarrassingly so, balls drawn tight and cock hardening further in the man’s hold. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be getting off, weren’t they still going to fuck?, but when he tried to gasp out a warning he only got a quiet chuckle he could feel the vibrations of as a response. The hand still helping to hold him open shifted just enough for the older man’s thumb to push against his entrance, to slid into him and hook at his rim, to spread him open for Mr. Amicitia to thrust his tongue in deeper, faster. 

A few hard pulls on his cock and Prompto came with a whimpering cry, spilling over the older man’s hand and his own stomach. His upper body lifted off the bed and his legs shook, the one on Mr. Amicitia’s shoulder trying to press closer as the heel of his foot pressed against the man’s back, attempting to drag him somehow closer. And then he crumpled, muscles loosening all at once, dragging air into his lungs as he attempted to catch his breath. 

Mr. Amicitia carefully extracted himself from the grip of his leg to crawl up over his body. “Doing okay?” Prompto nodded. “You ready to keep going?” He pressed against Prompto’s leg as he asked, ground his erection against him, painted a trail of sticky fluid along his inner thigh. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well? Are you ready?


End file.
